A Simple Waltz
by 2ollux captor ob2e22ed
Summary: During a visit to Canada's house England learns a little secret had been keeping from him. The secret lasts until France and England Waltz. FrUk.


I'm not sure why I'm actually enjoying myself at Canada's place. Seeing as I'm dealing with being uncomfortably close to France most of the time. My head turns to a Canadian who is high and drunk off of grapes lying on the couch. This is truthfully the furthest distance I've been from France all night. I'm surprised Canada is almost asleep through the music videos we've been playing. France changes the video we were listen to. Meanwhile, Canada gets grapes and I follow her into the kitchen. "Is that a waltz?" I ask the frog.

"Oui, Angleterre. Would you like to dance?" He responds.

"Not really," I mutter placing my glass on the table. I watch as France beings to dance on his own. Soon Canada even gets off the couch and begins spinning across the floor.

The more my eyes focus on the dark room I can tell Canada appears to dance as if she is holding someone. I blink once or twice as if to clear the thought. "Uh, Canada, what are you doing?"

"Dancing with Bob the demon!" She drunkenly exclaims.  
"Isn't that Russia's husband?" I inquire.  
"Russie, is married?" The frenchie asks me.  
"Apparently," I reply.

A few moments later Canada flops onto the couch. I stand up tired of just sitting there. I grab a quick bite to eat from the kitchen and stand by the entrance to the living room. "Come on Angleterre dance with me," The frog asks again.

"Canada, do you want to dance with your father?" I ask her.  
"Mama can dance with papa!"  
"I'm not a girl Canada..."

I sigh and look at the frog, "Very well then, France." I approach the frog.

"Ohonhonhon~ I knew you would come around Angleterre." I roll my eyes at his remark. We begin our waltz and France leads.

"How would that be France? It sound like you're implying we've ever had something," I remark. I stumble a little. I really should have practiced all these years. I guess it just slipped my mind recently with the work I've been getting.

"Angleterre, we're married, mon amore," the frog replies with a smirk.

Goddammit when did I marry that bloody wanker! "I don't ever remember marrying you, wanker."

"But you did, mon amor. You agreed when you were drunk and Sweden married us," he persists.

I bite my lip, this doesn't sound very good for me. "Well then I'm getting a divorce," I retort. I feel confident that he won't be able to come up with anything to stop this from happening.

"Well, Angleterre I had thought you would say that," He grins, "I asked Sweden to make it so you can't divorce me."

Crap, the frog has thought of everything hasn't he. I don't think it would be that much different though seeing how he's gotten into the house without my knowledge of it. No, I can't think that way! If I got married to the frog what else could I have done while I was drunk? Then that means... with Russia and... dear god with France!

I mess up again with my foot work. I never remember this being as difficult. We continue as if it never happened. We stop at the end of the waltz currently playing. "Angleterre, would you like to lead?" He asks after awhile.

"I don't really think I'll be able to," I mumble.

France shakes his head, "It's easy Angleterre. I'll help you," We reposition ourselves so I'm leading the dance. The frog begins to explain, "This time step foward. Now to the side. And close. Okay now step back, then to the side and bring your feet together. Now when you do this you do a quarter of a turn after."

I nod as he continues instructing me. "Foward, back, together, and now turn. Now foward, back, feet together, then turn the other way."

I bite the inside of my cheek and keep going without his instruction. I'm actually surprised I'm doing well. Or at least better than I thought I'd do.

"Your waltzing to a song from Sleeping Beauty," Canada proclaims from her spot on the couch.

I almost messed up barely realizing it wasn't just me and The Frenchie in the room. "Yes, we know that Canada," I tell my adopted daughter. France has been telling me it's my fault she's constantly high. Then we decided it was ethier the Netherlands or Mexico. That is another story, but I'm more than willing to tell it one day.

Canada continues to ramble on about who knows what. I think she brought up flying ponies at one point. I mess up and we stop. I blame Canada while she goes on about 'special' brownies.

The next waltz goes at a faster pace which. "I say we sit this one out, Angleterre," he suggests. I agree with him. I turn to Canada.

"That was weird seeing two guys dance," she informs me.

"I think you should try to get used to it know that the frog and I are married," I reply with a sigh.

"The pink flying ponies say I should try to divorce you," she whispers.I really have to figure out who introduced her to drugs.

"I'm flattered that you would offer, but France has it set so we can't get a divorce any where. If we were normal humans I'm sure it would be different. Thank you for the offer though," I whisper back.

I find it odd I actually enjoyed that rather awkward dance with the frog. If I had the choice I would probably never do it again. I doubt France will give me a choice. Why did this have happen to me?

"It's weird when two guys do stuff like that together!" Canada chirps.

"You got a dose of yaoi then, my dear." I say looking at the girl I had adopted all those centuries ago.

Her face twists in to that of pure horror. She turns to the frog, "Papa, England is lying, right?"

"Non, mon cher, Angleterre speaks zhe truth," He confirms.

Canada squeaks, "L-lets not t-talk ab-about that. Please."

I shrug. The rest of our night is spent watching disney amvs from that show Japan made about us during WW2.

By the end of the night I still can't get that waltz or the bloody frog out of my head. Of course that will change in the morning. I'm sure Feance will start an argument over whose cooking is better. That will make me forget. Besides my food is better anyway.


End file.
